Gwen's Curse: Ch. 1, P. 1

[pre-story]Another story for you all to enjoy, the start of another brand-new series from a brand-new anonymous commissioner, based on a series that’s long held a special place in my memories, Ben 10. Gwen wants to try out a spell she’s been translating, and Ben owes her a favor, but neither has any idea what the consequences might be…
I surprised myself, working on this one, I sat down to get started on it one day morning and I was DONE by noon! I’ve never managed to start and finish a whole chapter in a single sitting before…

Anyways, as always, if you like what you see, [redacted] I hope you enjoy![/pre-story]

Gwen’s Curse: Chapter 1, Part 1

“Ugh, this is so bo~ring~…” Ben groaned, rolling his head back as he slouched in place and let his arms hang limp in an exaggerated, overly-dramatic gesture.

Gwen was running out of patience, herself, but for very different reasons. The redhead stood up, planting her wrist on one hip, her hand occupied by her pocket-sized notebook, the corners of her mouth pulling down into a scowl as she narrowed her eyes into a glare. “Listen, dweeb, you PROMISED you would do ANYTHING I wanted if I helped you buy that Sumo Slammers card, and it’s time to pay up.” She said, bending forward at the waist and gesturing down at the ground with the purple chalk in her other hand, specifically, at the chalk circle he stood inside, half-surrounded with mysterious symbols. “So you’re going to stand there, be quiet, and let me try out this spell! And unless you want me to mess it up and accidentally turn you into a frog, you’ll STOP DISTRACTING ME.” She snapped, causing ben to flinch away, slightly. He was silent for a moment as Gwen’s eyes narrowed even further, glowering at him for a moment, before she straightened up, sank down to her knees again, and went back to work on the symbols.

Musing: Wild Nights

[pre-story]I had a fit of inspiration, and this just kinda happened. [redacted] Anyways, enjoy![/pre-story]

My husband is a kind, sweet, and gentle man. When we first started dating, my mother was worried about what would happen if he got violent. After all, I’m a ‘delicate little lotus flower’, a tiny, slender Japanese girl barely five foot and almost a hundred pounds, and he’s a 6’3” of blond German muscle, a full hundred pounds heavier. But I knew from the moment we met I didn’t have to worry. He was soft-spoken, emotional, and almost painfully shy, a giant teddy bear of a man. He was aven afraid of my family’s lapdog when he came to visit. I had to be the one to ask him out, to ask him to marry me, and I still have to make the first move when it comes to sex. Not that the sex is bad, mind you, John is big where it counts, too, and he practically worships me in bed. He’s passionate, attentive, and eager to please. Sometime he’ll just spend hours making me cum over and over with his fingers and tongue… But while I am absolutely not complaining about that part, I have to admit, the one thing that bothers me is that he’s so damn precious with me. He touches me like he’s afraid I’ll break, and he feels super-guilty the moment he does something even remotely approaching ‘rough‘.

Musing: Like Rabbits (p.1)

[pre-story] [redacted][/pre-story]

Part 1


“Fuck… Stairs…” Adam gasped for breath as he hauled himself up yet another tall stone step, the thin mountain air hardly helping.


“I’m not… gonna let… some stupid stairs…keep me from… the greatest… archaeological find… since the rosetta stone!” Eva insisted, gritting her teeth and redoubling her efforts, pulling ahead of Adam as the pair ascended the seemingly endless stairs of the massive tiered pyramid.


Adam groaned in complaint as he hastened to match his wife’s pace. Eva was always like that, energetic, restless, always moving, never settling… It had taken him three globe-trotting expeditions to convince her that he wasn’t going to slow her down if they got married. But that’s part of what he loved about her. She was driven, passionate, always hungry for the next achievement, always pushing herself, and him, to do more. Sure, it would be nice to settle down and start a family, but he knew she couldn’t be happy stuck in one place.

Musing- DDDD&D

[pre-story]Hey there, squish here, with an old bonus chapter freshly released for you to enjoy! I have a bunch of story ideas for a fantasy setting waiting around for me to do something with them, and I was overcome by the urge to make a world for them all to fit into. So, this is kind of an introduction to the concept. I’m probably going to double down on this idea sometime later and flesh this short out into a full-length chapter to build off of with the other stories, but no idea when that'll happen.
 [redacted] Anyways, I hope you enjoy!
Content warnings: Unrealistic anatomy (on both genders), magic, fantasy interracial, group sex, butt stuff, furry a little m/m, a little futa, and a sad ending.[/pre-story]

Dicks, DDs, Dungeons, and Dragons

The old woman’s lips quirked in a bemused smirk, the faint wrinkles at the corners of her mouth crinkling. “...My name is Aellia Vaer’Dahn. I was named at the spring equinox, one hundred and ninety nine years ago. This equinox would have been my two hundredth, but, well... ” she sighed, raising one slender, smooth wrist, gesturing to the heavy, runed shackle locked around it, the thick chain clinking as it was dragged over the cold stone of the cell floor.

She certainly didn’t look her age. Her skin was soft, fair, and smooth, with only a handful of faint wrinkles around her lips and eyes. The woman’s silky silver hair was swept back over her long, pointed ears, cascading down her back, onto the simple cot she sat upon, and over the edge, the tips hanging level with her gently-swinging bare feet. And her body… She was petite and slender, just under five feet, with a slender hourglass figure, smooth, graceful curves obvious even through her prison garb. It didn’t do much to conceal her breasts, either, the milky mounds like ripe cantaloupes, tenting out the modest garb to expose more cleavage than the designer had intended. They would have been generous on a human, but on an elf, they drew stares.

By the Horns: Ch. 2

[pre-story] Hey there, squish here, with the continuation of Rhuno's adventures across Azeroth! The story, and the chapter, chosen by you guys, my faithful patrons! This installment takes our hero to a remote corner of The Blasted Lands. This one's takes off a little slow, I really wanted to get some character development in there, and it ended up taking more space than I thought it would. Hopefully, it was worth it in the end! Let me know what you think! And as always, if you like my work, [redacted]

Content Warnings: Huge cocks, excessive cum, impregnation, cumflation, and furries.[/pre-story]

Chapter 2: A Hero's Reward

Tonight, like every night in recent memory, a tense quiet hung over the Howling Drunk Inn. The few patrons, a selection of the town’s old, infirm, and cowardly, sat in humbled silence, nursing mugs of porter as the night dragged on interminably. Donna Berrymore, the innkeeper, stood behind the bar, mechanically re-washing the unused mugs. She was a mature woman, with warm tan skin, raven-black hair, and a glare that could send even the most ornery drunk cringing out the door. The young barmaid, Becca, was the only one moving, pacing around the room, clearing away empty mugs, impatiently seeking something, anything to do to keep herself busy.

By The Horns: Ch. 2 [Preview]

[pre-story] Hey there, squish here, with the continuation of Rhuno's adventures across Azeroth! [redacted] This installment takes our hero to a remote corner of The Blasted Lands. [redacted][/pre-story]

Chapter 2: A Hero's Reward

Tonight, like every night in recent memory, a tense quiet hung over the Howling Drunk Inn. The few patrons, a selection of the town’s old, infirm, and cowardly, sat in humbled silence, nursing mugs of porter as the night dragged on interminably. Donna Berrymore, the innkeeper, stood behind the bar, mechanically re-washing the unused mugs. She was a mature woman, with warm tan skin, raven-black hair, and a glare that could send even the most ornery drunk cringing out the door. The young barmaid, Becca, was the only one moving, pacing around the room, clearing away empty mugs, impatiently seeking something, anything to do to keep herself busy.

Becca was a petite, slender thing, just barely more than five feet tall. She had a cute, mousy sort of look to her, with soft features dotted with a handful of freckles, a cute little button nose, and large, chestnut-brown eyes. Jaw-length brown hair was tucked hurriedly out of the way behind her ears, a few stray locks curling forward to brush against her cheeks. Her uniform was typical of her job, an ankle-length brown dress that hung loosely off her admittedly average hips, a laced leather bodice that cinched her already slim waist even tighter, and a frilly top with a neckline that bared her shoulders and the modest cleavage of her firm, orange-sized breasts. She was practically the ideal barmaid, attractive in that girl-next-door way, but not distractingly eye-catching. She almost seemed to blend into the background when you weren’t looking.

How Excellia Got Her Horns

Excellia reflected silently on how much she hated her job. It had been a little more than a season since the amazon princess had abandoned her homeland and departed the jungles of Lak'Tathion. She'd left to seek strength in the wider world, to face great challenges and overcome them, to earn glory and respect among her people. But the wider world had proven to be utterly disappointing. It had been nothing but one foul-smelling barbarian town after another, performing menial tasks for a handful of the metal coins they used for currency. At this rate, she would be a wizened crone before she had even a single trophy worth any real honor. Looking inward, she cursed fate for trapping her in such a frail body. True enough, compared to the women of these barbarians, she was a goddess. Like all her amazonian sisters her skin gleamed bronze in the morning sunlight. Her long, wavy crimson hair cascaded down her back in a burning waterfall, all the way to the small of her back. She stood eye to eye with most of the barbarian menfolk, and every inch of her body was covered in toned, lithe muscle. Well, almost every inch. She was undeniably woman, with a shapely pair of orange-sized breasts and an undeniable curve to her hips. Her traveling outfit did nothing to conceal her glorious physique, originally consisting of nothing more than a wide cloth band threaded between her muscular thighs and held around the waist by a sturdy leather belt that bore furry pouches on the front and back, and the leather strap harness that held her mighty two-handed axe tight to her back. She'd added a wide, fitted cloth band over her breasts when the stares of the barbarian menfolk became intolerable.